


sunshine boy pt.2

by orphan_account



Series: drabbles [8]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boys In Love, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Singer Lance, Smitten Keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 11:33:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18850237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: (warm afternoon).





	sunshine boy pt.2

Keith flips another page and tightens his grip on the book when the breeze blows a little too hard. His eyes squint at the sunlight now peeking between the leaves and causing his vision to go a little blank. He frowns and grunts, tilting his head so his face is buried in Lance’s stomach and away from the afternoon sun.

Lance’s voice merely jolts, a sign of laughter in his words that lasts less than a second before they return to sounding melodic. His fingers never stop moving against the strings, filling their tiny, peaceful bubble of joy with soft notes.

Distracted from his book, Keith can listen to Lance more attentively, catching each chord of his guitar and enjoying the effortless flow of his voice, words rolling off his tongue like a sweet spell. Keith smiles to himself, sparks of something disgustingly doting birthed in his chest as he, yet again, realizes he can listen to this incredible, wonderful voice every day.

Keith doesn’t move until his hair stops whipping from the wind and his face is less hot from the sun. 

He returns to his book, settling his head more comfortably in Lance’s lap. The plaid blanket is soft beneath him and there’s a faint smell of tacos in the air from their previous lunch. Keith never despised picnics or spending time in nature, but after meeting Lance he’s very easily fallen in love with the activity, dragging Lance out every time the sun hangs bright and warm in the sky. They have a favorite spot, a huge tree providing shade on extremely hot days—and as a bonus, the place is almost always empty.

Keith hums absentmindedly at something in the book, hearing how the music ends with one swift drag of fingers. He hears Lance tightening and adjusting the strings before breathing in deeply and beginning another song.

It’s not a cover this time, it’s his original song.

_ “There's this boy with pretty, dark eyes,” _

_ “He’s got a mullet and he barely ever cries, _

_ He reads a book as I sing him a song _

_ But I really wish he’d kiss me real long.” _

Keith snorts, unable to hold it in anymore. He drops the book on his chest and looks up at Lance. The boy grins down at him, a coy smirk that gives his eyes a mirthful spark. He wiggles his eyebrows wryly, leaning an elbow on the side of his guitar—it’s an old guitar, entirely covered in stickers; Keith’s heart aches at the sight of a green alien-head sticker, the one that he had added to the collection, and it’s so simple, just a dumb little sticker among dozens of more, but it makes him feel special, makes him smile genuinely like he has a meaningful place in Lance’s life.

“Well?” Lance asks, looking at him expectantly. He puts the guitar away and starts playing with Keith’s hair instead, brushing the locks carefully and gently and caringly, in a way that always manages to cause Keith’s stomach to jolt from exhilaration. Keith feels Lance push his bangs away, exposing his face even more.

“I don’t know,” Keith says thoughtfully, expression nonchalant. “I think I’ll need you to sing me another song.”

“Tsk,” Lance clicks his tongue, shaking his head dismissively; he doesn’t stop brushing Keith’s hair and Keith thinks how comfortable it would be to fall asleep like this. “You just want me for my voice.”

“Of course, why else would I be with you?” Lance pulls at a string painfully and Keith laughs. He reaches a hand to Lance’s face, slowly cupping his cheek. The mirthful glint in Lance’s eyes changes into something more sincere, more true and soft that has Keith smiling widely like a fool.

“You still nervous about tomorrow’s show?” Keith asks, his words are quiet, carefully breathed out so they won’t shatter the fragile bubble forming around them. Lance’s smile seems less tight than before, his eyes less cloudy and more like the clear sky above them—endlessly blue and beautiful.

“Yeah, but not like before,” he whispers back, his hand coming to a stop but his thumb keeps sliding back and forth across Keith’s forehead. Keith wants to reassure him, wants to tell him he has nothing to worry about, but Lance is speaking before Keith can manage to open his mouth: “You should wear your hair up more often, I want people to know you have a forehead.”

“I lose my hair ties all the time,” Keith says matter-of-factly. He gives in to the urge and closes his eyes. A pleased hum unwittingly sneaks out of his throat when Lance gently scratches his head and Keith frowns with his eyes still closed at the sound of Lance chuckling.

“Luckily, I’ve got just the thing,” Lance says and removes his hand from Keith’s hair. Keith surpasses a whimper of protest and opens one eye to look at Lance shuffling in his bag. He chants a triumphant  _ aha! _ and holds up a yellow scrunchy with white stars dotted all over.

Lance gathers Keith’s bangs in one place and ties it with the scrunchy, his face playful, a barely-held-back smile toying with his lips that Keith finds too endearing to point out. He finishes with a gentle pat on Keith’s cheek, looking over at his hair as if analyzing its worth.

“I should open a salon,” he deadpans.

Keith snorts and leans up on his elbows, bringing his face closer to Lance’s deliberately to watch his sly expression crack. Lance’s cheeks and nose are dusted with pink, a pleasant and very cute result of spending too much time under the sun; it adds a spark to Lance’s overall summery vibes, an added contrast to his beautiful blues.

“And  _ you _ should work as a pineapple,” Lance says and laughs when Keith shakes his tied-up bangs around. It’s unbelievably elating, making Lance laugh feels like a reward, like a reached goal, tasting sweet and airy, sounding velvet and so, so wonderful. It spreads into their personal, calm bubble and echoes in Keith’s ear like a broken record—and maybe, Keith wishes the sound to never go away, for that metaphorical record to always stay broken.

Lance inches close and smacks a soft, sweet kiss on Keith’s forehead, leaving a flame of heat where his lips met his skin. And it’s so simple, so natural like a worn out habit, yet Keith’s heart soars with contentment and his face lights up with a smile that he is certain looks incredibly dopey.

When Lance leans back on his hands, Keith leans forward, closer and closer, chasing after a familiar touch of warmth and gentle breaths. He slowly kisses the corner of Lance’s mouth, lingering there until he feels the other leaning in, breathing against Keith’s cheek and making his skin prickle.

“You’re gonna rock tomorrow, okay?” Keith whispers, nosing against Lance’s cheek and brushing his lips over his skin there. He feels Lance nod, feels his hand moving atop his own, an added warmth to the stars inside Keith’s chest.

“Okay,” Lance whispers back, punctuating his response with a peck on Keith’s lips. Then another, and another, and another until it’s less chaste and more passionate, less warm and more burning, a growing fire that spreads and spreads and  _ spreads _ into Keith, through his skin and his bones and his mind, swallowing his thoughts all together and leaving only  _ Lance _ . Lance and his lips and his touch and  _ him _ .

Is it possible, Keith wonders not for the first time, for a boy to be so melodic in every way?

Because he swears those lips are tracing a song across his own, he swears those hands thread notes across his skin, he swears this boy—this boy, who is so beautiful and wonderful and incredibly breathtaking—makes his heart beat into a melody he wishes to listen forever.

Keith doesn’t want to break the kiss, but he’s getting lightheaded from the lack of air and his lips start to move sloppily from it. He leans his forehead against Lance’s and sighs, keeping his eyes closed, sensing a faded buzz in his lips from the kiss. His hand jolts where it’s gripping Lance’s hair—which, when did that happen?—when Lance nibbles at his lip, huffing a laugh after Keith clutches his hair tighter.

“How was that for a real long kiss?” Keith manages after coming down from his high, swallow when his words come out raw and hoarse.

“Not enough,” Lance says, shamelessly, fragrantly, completely unabashed, and Keith is not sure if he should roll his eyes or close the tiny distance between them.

Lance smiles when Keith leans in again.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! tell me what you thought about this story :3
> 
> (if you find that thing that is unrealistic ignore it... i don’t know why and how but it happened and i’d appreciate you ignoring it, thanks a lot. dumb potato out!)
> 
> come say hi to me on [tumblr](https://yourfriendlyneighborsam.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/frendlysam) or [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/friendlyneighborsam/) (i post tiny drabbles on ig)


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